


Butt Call/Booty Dialed

by EllyAvon, mahons_ondine



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: And by enormous queen we mean size queen, Explicit Sexual Content, Hot Patater, Kent Parson is an enormous queen, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sweet Patater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllyAvon/pseuds/EllyAvon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahons_ondine/pseuds/mahons_ondine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tater butt dials Kent with unexpected consequences.  </p><p>Inspired by the "Thaw Me Out" series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We were discussing the "Thaw Me Out" series, and had to follow this little idea to its logical conclusion. 
> 
> The first in a series of approximately 6.4 million collaborations between Elly and Ondine. Keep your eyes peeled in the coming weeks for [the-wellie-podcast](http://www.the-wellie-podcast.tumblr.com) that they're working on with @stephie-senpai and @mapleapplepie, and the D/s AU that they're writing that no one asked for, but that we all clearly need.

Tater swipes the key card and slides into his hotel room. It is quiet and cool, an oasis after being out in the relentless Texas heat.  He groans, lowering himself to sit by the desk so that he can shuck off his shoes and socks.  It doesn't seem fair that the All Star Game should be in Texas. It is supposed to be an honor, no? A celebration! But who can celebrate in this swelter, Tater wonders. Why would anyone live here? 

 

His phone jolts him out of his reverie with a violent buzz. Tater tilts up his hips, searching for the somewhat inappropriately placed phone. Not actually a bad vibration, he muses, finally fishing out his phone. It’s Kent Freaking Parson calling. Tater stares. It's not, well, look, he’s not the absolute last person Tater expected to call him, but short of his sweet baby niece, the one year old Ninotchka, or his very loved, but also very dead babushka, well let's just say Kent is pretty damn close. 

 

They'd only exchanged numbers about two hours earlier at the banquet, and then only because Tater might have begged Jack just a tiny bit to introduce them. Tater is a very big fan, after all. And Kent is a very pretty man. But Kent had seemed distracted, maybe a little upset, when Jack had introduced him, so to see his name lighting up the screen is a surprise. Tater answers. 

 

"Hello?" 

 

"You called? Is this... Alexei?"

 

Kent's voice is harsh and full of sleep. 

 

"Yes. I--" Tater checks his call history, and there it is, two calls to Kent Parson. "Do not worry. I did not mean to wake you. Is only, how you say, booty call? You understand." 

 

"I...yes.” He says, sounding much more awake, “oh yeah, I understand." 

 

"Good." 

 

"Yes, yes, _very_ good. Well then, see you soon." 

 

And Kent hangs up in a rush. Tater sighs to himself, "He does not like you, Alexei. Look at how fast he hang up." 

 

Nothing to be done for it. Kent probably likes women. Or maybe pretty boys. Tater knows that there are many people who would like a big man like him. There are plenty of men and women for him to hook up with wherever he goes, but it seems that Kent Parson is not counted among their number. He plugs his phone in to charge and wanders into the bathroom to brush his teeth, stripping down to boxers and an undershirt as he goes. 

 

He feels much better by the time he's finished his ablutions. He's tired, traveling always tires him out, and he's headed to his bed when he hears a knock. Probably Snowy. Snowy always likes to bother him when he's drunk. Tater is feeling a bit put upon at this stage, and he considers ignoring it.  But then there is another knock. Better to just deal with him. So Tater stalks over to the door, wrenches it open, and stares. At Kent Parson. 

 

"So, you going to let me in?" 

 

Tater just blinks down at the bathrobe clad Kent. 

 

"Fine, alright. I see how it's gonna be," Kent chuckles, scanning the hallways for people, and then he yanks open his robe and poses.

 

He is wearing the tiniest, tightest shorts that Tater has ever seen. Little black leather shorts that are straining to contain Kent's already half hard cock. Tater gapes. 

 

"Like what you see?" Kent purrs. 

 

Tater is rendered speechless by Kent's appearance, but he isn't stupid, so he nods frantically. 

 

"Good." 

 

Kent shoves his way past Tater, kicking the door closed as he goes and immediately dropping his fuzzy robe. Before he can admire the view, Kent is on him. He’s pressing him up against the door and kissing him, rubbing his leather sheathed cock against Tater's trembling thigh muscles. Tater whimpers, and Kent grins at him so lasciviously that he can feel his knees weaken further under the onslaught. 

 

"Please," he mumbles breaking their kiss only long enough to gasp, "Please." 

 

"Alright, it's alright, Tater,” Kent demures, stepping away and looking up at him through his long lashes. He looks so gorgeous, all flushed and hard everywhere and just--

 

"Alexei,” he hears himself correct. 

 

Kent smiles, a softer thing than he might have expected. "Alexei,” he repeats, drawing out each syllable like they're candy on his tongue. He reaches out his hand.

 

Alexei takes it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent and Alexei get a little more familiar with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo neither of us could come up with any specific notes except to say that this has been so much fun to write, and we hope it's just as much fun to read!

  
Kent Parson is familiar with the concept of a booty call. He’s very familiar with receiving booty calls the night after the All Star Gala, and even familiar with receiving booty calls from male hockey players. So really, by that logic, this shouldn’t be surprising. And yet it is.

That part that is surprising, he reflects, as the enormous Russian man kisses his way down his neck, is that this particular male hockey player booty called him.

Kent’s followed Alexei’s career, because as a winger, he’s pretty exciting. He’s brash, he’s big, and he’s agile as hell for being so enormous. Just as that thought crosses his mind Alexei does something positively sinful with his tongue over his hip. Fucking damn. Of course, the fact that he’s on Zimms’ team doesn’t hurt. He might have already been following the Falc’s stats anyway. It’s what any former lover/frenemy/ex best friend would do in his shoes, he thinks.

It’s not that he doesn't think Mashkov-- Alexei, he thinks, and then threads his hands through his hair as he kisses his way up to his clavicle, “Alexei,” he says aloud. Alexei smiles at him wickedly, his eyes alight, and his gold chain tracing a tingling cold trail on Kent’s chest. Right, fuck, it’s not that he doesn’t know Mashkov picks up when they’re on the road, it’s just that this isn’t his pattern. People talk. And hockey players do love a good gossip. So Kent knows that he’s a wine-and-diner. Rumor is he takes people out on the town and shows them a good time out of bed first. Alexei doesn’t call them twice at one in the morning and then openly invite them over for a booty call, and he certainly wouldn’t be surprised when they show.

Alexei is saying something now, but it isn’t in English so Kent assumes it’s okay not to listen. He’s too busy mapping out his new partner’s trapezius muscles with the flats of his hands. They’re gorgeous, it’s just unfair. Kent knows he’s hot, but there’s something about being with a man so much bigger than him that just--

“Alexei,” he breathes out again, as teeth close on his neck, nipping, “I’ll bruise!” he whines.  
Alexei laughs, which shakes them both, “You will have no bruises you do not want, that I will promise, yeah?” Kent feels his eyes widen, and Alexei smirks, “I can imagine you would not mind a few little marks?”

As an answer, Kent pulls him back down to his shoulder, and simply moans his approval as Alexei goes to work sucking a lovely bite onto his skin. Kent rolls his hips up trying for more friction, because while he can make out for a long time in a night club, it’s already almost two am and he has so many plans for while he has access to the world wonder that is Alexei Mashkov, and all of them involve him getting out of these fucking shorts. They’ve already done their job.

He arches his back and presses insistently against Alexei’s thigh. Then he gives him his best pout, “help me out of these? Please?”

“I cannot figure how you got into them,” Alexei says, leaning back so that he’s kneeling on the foot of the bed, presumably admiring the sight of Kent, laid out for him and begging to be undressed. Kent is a giver, so he poses a little and bites down on his bottom lip. Honestly, these tricks don’t usually work on people who know him even a little, so he’s both proud and slightly surprised to see Alexei’s cock twitch in his boxers, and realizes with a start that he is enormous.

He’s even more surprised when Alexei slides his hands gently down his sides, then tears his leather booty shorts down one seam, and then the other, like they're tissue paper.

Kent makes a noise that is absolutely not a squeak. He will admit to whimpering before he admits to squeaking.

Alexei smiles contentedly, and divests Kent of his ruined (and very expensive) underwear. Then, he steps off the bed and undresses himself in two graceful moves--

Swoop, he tosses his undershirt to the left, swoop, and his boxers to the right.

This is the point where, usually, someone pounces and things escalate at a delicious and exponential speed. However, Alexei just stares, and Kent can feel his eyes on him like a physical physical touch; feather light and reverent.

“I do not think I need to tell you that you are beautiful, Kent. But I will say anyway, I am glad to have such a beautiful man in my bed,” he says.

Kent blushes, and feels the irrational urge to cover his face with his hands. He compromises and closes his eyes for just a moment, whispering incoherent swear words and pleas to the ceiling. When he looks up, he’s treated to the sight of Alexei still watching him raptly, and stroking his frankly beautiful cock almost absentmindedly. Kent has to shake himself, because, fuck, fucking fuck, it’s really time to regain some semblance of control, here.

He locks eyes with Alexei, gets up on his hands and knees, and crawls over to where he’s standing just off the foot of the bed. He nuzzles his cheek against the head of Alexei’s cock playfully, “Would you like me to suck your cock?” he asks in what he hopes is a seductive and coquettish voice.

Alexei just laughs again, and makes a vague motion as though to say be my guest.

Kent does not need much more invitation than that to dart his tongue out and lap at the tip teasingly.

Tater settles his hands gently on Kent’s head, stroking his hair, scraping his nails across Kent’s scalp. And Kent shivers, nuzzling closer because Alexei is so warm, and he smells like hot metal and tree bark and it’s strange and heady. Kent just wants to rub his face against him. So he does. He leans in, nose buried in the crease of his thigh, and breathes. And Alexei’s cock is rubbing up against his cheek, and smearing precome in his hair, and Kent almost feels a bit faint from how good it feels to have skin on skin.

“Kenny?”

Kent sighs, brushing his lips across Alexei’s cock, and then sliding down to rub his other cheek against it.

“Ah, Kenny, пожалуйста,” Alexei murmurs, leaning down even as he pulls Kent away from his cock, up by his hair.

Kent follows, because he’s good at following. Because he wants to follow. Because Alexei is still stroking his scalp and pressing kisses to his face, and murmuring his name and Kent loves the way his name sounds coming from Alexei, loves the lilt of his accent, and the naked affection that Kent can’t imagine he has done anything to deserve, but that he will take and treasure nonetheless.

“Sorry,” Kent gasps out. “I was going to… I just got distracted. Let me, let me.”

And Kent knows he’s babbling, knows he must seem ridiculous, mumbling and scrambling, trying to get his hands on Alexei’s cock, and when he finally does, trying to bring his mouth back down to it. But Alexei won’t let him go. Instead he’s pressing him down into the mattress, and finally, finally covering Kent’s body with his own.

“If you are not minding, I think maybe I want to be in you? I don’t want to go early, you understand, so not so much with your mouth.”  
Kent stares. His brain is a little slow, but not so slow that he doesn’t eventually catch up, and then he groans, rutting against Alexei.

“Yeah, yeah Alexei, that sounds. Yeah, it’s alright, I don’t have to suck you off. I want your cock so fucking bad.”

And he does. He really does. See, normally Kent tops. It’s easier. He’s never sore for games. And with Zimms he’d always topped. He hadn’t known how to ask for anything else. And look, he likes it, he does. He loves topping, but sometimes it’s nice to bottom. And if Kent is being completely honest, well, he’s a bit of a size queen. He slides his hand between them, and palms Alexei’s erection, sliding his hand from root to tip, and back, and imagining the incredible stretch of having that inside of him. Lucky there isn’t a game tomorrow, seriously.

“Is that yes?” Alexei whispers breathlessly against Kent’s ear.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nuzzling into his neck.

Then, as quickly as he had pressed Kent into the bed, Alexei is gone. He darts across the room, and rummages around in his suitcase, getting increasingly agitated. Meanwhile Kent fishes the lube and condoms he brought out of his robe pocket and settles back on the bed.

“Alexei?”

He doesn’t look up. Kent sighs, and slicks his fingers, tracing his hole lightly.

“Alexei?”

Kent groans, sliding first one finger, and then a second inside himself.

“Fuck,” he mutters, spreading his legs further and angling his body so that he can see Alexei, and Alexei, if he would just look up, can see him. “Alexei,” he gasps out, driving himself down on his fingers, and shuddering as he brushes against his prostate.

And finally, finally Alexei looks up. He freezes.

“Заеби́сь!”

Kent grins, and spreads his legs a little wider. He doesn’t speak Russian, of course, but he’s pretty sure he gets the idea. And it seems to have been the right move because Alexei jerks himself out of his reverie and stalks over to Kent. Suddenly Kent is surrounded by him, he’s sliding his hand along Kent’s thigh, and kissing him, fit to take his breath away. Kent isn’t certain when the last time he’d been quite so sure of anything was.

He bats his hand away, “I will do this, let me.”

Kent pouts, “but I’m almost ready,” which Alexei seems to find endlessly funny. He is still laughing as he slicks his fingers and uses his thumb-- his thumb, first, leaving the rest of his hand free to grope maddeningly at the rest of Kent’s ass. That is a good trick, if your hands are big enough, Kent manages to think before Alexei switches to pressing his index finger in and crooks it just so. Kent tries to swear but his head is full of absolute static. When he does get his powers of speech back the first thing out of his mouth is, “Fuck, please, please.”

Alexei only laughs again, and adds another finger, kissing him anywhere he can reach, biting intermittently. Generally driving Kent completely insane. “Come on,” he whines again, “please.”

“You do not have to beg, I will give you what you want, but not until you are ready, yes?” Alexei twists his fingers again, rubbing insistently at his prostate, and Kent writhes. “I have never seen a show in Las Vegas, but this I think must to be better than any Circus.”

Kent, frankly, doesn’t have time to defend Cirque du Soleil right now, even though he’s friends with some of the aerialists in Zumanity, “We’re in Texas,” he manages to say, with the sassiest little smirk he can manage, “I’m not under obligation to put-- ahh-- to put on a good show.”

“Hm, it is very good show. I am enjoying,” he adds a third finger, and Kent is fairly certain he is going to come untouched, which he hasn’t done since he was and 18 with-- yeah it’s better not to think about that.

“Please, Alexei,” he says again, trying to somehow make it clear he really means it this time, that he’s sped right past needy and into desperate.

Mercifully, Alexei leans back on his heels and expertly sheathes himself in a condom (and Kent feels like a genius for bringing the magnums, he really does), and leans down nuzzling at Kent’s ear. It tickles, and Kent stifles a giggle, holding his breath.

Suddenly, it feels quiet and charged in the hotel room. Alexei sits back on the bed, and gestures for Kent to-- what? It takes just a moment for Kent’s brain to latch on-- ride. That makes sense, yeah. “Fuck yeah, “ he says aloud.

Alexei laughs and grins, “that is the plan, yes?”

Kent grins back and tries to be graceful as he clambers up into Alexei’s lap, but he’s really too far gone to care if he looks sexy at this point, and from the way Alexei’s eyes are tracing the lines of his body he's not sure he actually needs to do much at all to appear sexy. He’s got himself poised to start sinking down, when Alexei tilts his head forward and kisses him like-- oh-- just slow and sweet and hot and everything a booty call isn’t.

“You will tell me, if you need to stop, please,” he says, leaning their foreheads together gently.

“Yeah,” Kent whispers back. “Yeah, you too.”

The first few moments are incredibly intense. If he thought Alexei was big before, he maybe wasn’t truly prepared for the actual reality of his cock breaching Kent’s body and filling him like this. It’s-- a little painful, yeah, but good. His skin feels tight all over and the burning stretch only adds to the heat.

Alexei has his eyes closed tightly and is breathing through his nose. He’s trembling a little and Kent can feel the tightness in his quads, and his grip on his hips. Kent does something he doesn’t normally do, and leans in to kiss him, just as slowly and carefully as Alexei kissed him a moment before, as he sinks the rest of the way down.

They stay like that for a few moments, both of them breathing hard and clinging to one another. They're not really even kissing anymore, just resting against each other and breathing the same air.

When Alexei opens his eyes and stares right into his, Kent is so overwhelmed with-- he’s not sure exactly, but he laughs, maybe a little hysterically. He laughs because it’s stupid o’clock in the morning and he’s having sex with this gorgeous man who’s staring at him like he hung the moon.

Alexei gives him a grin that’s incredibly bashful for someone balls deep inside him right now, then laughs, too, kisses him, and rocks his hips up.

And that’s, holy shit, that is amazing. Kent rocks his hips back, trying to set a rhythm, but giggling a little, still. Alexei splays one of his hands over his back and rolls his hips again, which startles a gasp out of Kent. Of course, he can give as good as he can take, so he bounces a little, teasing, which feels like a good idea, until Alexei’s hand goes right back to his hip.

He’s laughing again, which, this is way more laughing than Kent has ever experienced during sex before, but it’s strangely nice. “I do not think you want to tease me,” Alexei says.

“Yeah?” Kent counters, with a nasty little gyration.

“Yeah, he says, and starts to move.

Then, Alexei isn’t laughing anymore, but he does seem to be-- growling? Rumbling? Kent isn’t sure what kind of noise he’s making except that it’s low and incredibly sexy and he would buy a CD of it and listen to it on repeat for days. If it was a song he’d learn all the lyrics and sing it so much his teammates would put a $1000 fine on any mention of it. It’s fucking addicting is what it is. Alexei thrusting up like he’s made for this, holding Kent in place, fucking him so beautifully and making that noise. Kent feels like he actually might cry in this moment, if he weren’t so close to coming all over both of them.

Resigned to his fate, he puts one hand on the back of Alexei’s neck and the other on his own cock. Alexei is saying something, and Kent doesn’t speak Russian, but he does know what “Da,” means. Then, Alexei switches to his name, “Kent, Kent, Kent,” like a chant, and hearing his name like that is enough to send him straight over the edge. He’s absolutely gone in a cascading white blaze of ecstasy. He feels Alexei tense up and pull him close with both arms, so their chests slide together, hot skin slick with come and sweat, as they shudder through long, stuttering aftershocks.

Kent drops messy kisses all over his chest and shoulders, anywhere he can reach. And he’s shaking, maybe giggling again. Then they're just sitting, wrapped around each other and grinning. Kent is reluctant to let him go, reluctant to pull away, even though he always pulls away. Generally he's glad to pull back though, to make a little bubble around himself and get away from the suffocating presence of other people.

Alexei doesn't feel suffocating though.

Alexei is in his air, yes, but his presence is light, unobtrusive. But Kent's come is becoming tacky between them, and they're starting to stick and maybe Alexei doesn't like to cuddle. Kent doesn't know. Kent doesn't know anything about him.

He flops backward onto the bed, disengaging Alexei’s cock with an obscene noise.

Alexei collapses next to him, knots and tosses the condom in the vague direction of the trash. Then, before he can move, Alexei gathers him all up in his arms, nuzzling his nose into Kent’s sticky hair.

Usually, Kent would protest this. He doesn’t mind cuddling, but he doesn’t like to lead people on. He’s a hook-up kind of guy. But-- Alexei’s arms feel so good around him. He was so sweet and careful. It feels so good to be held. And if nothing else he kind of really has to hear him make that noise again.

He sighs, and nuzzles his own nose into the fur on Alexei’s chest.

Then, Alexei says, “I am so glad I butt called you.”

Kent tilts his head, still feeling a little fuzzy-headed from his orgasm, “what?”

“That is the term? When you call someone with your butt accidentally?”

Kent blinks a few times. “Okay, so, when you called me twice, it was actually a butt dial?”

Alexei scoots away just slightly so they can look each other in the face. He looks confused.

“Yes? This is the accidental phone call?”

“When I called you back, you said booty call.”

“Booty is butt, yes?”

“Wow. Wow. No. I mean, yes, booty and butt are synonyms, but--”

He takes a brief moment to explain the subtle but incredibly important difference between a butt dial and a booty call, and Alexei laughs raucously.

“I have never been so glad to be wrong!” He leans down and kisses Kent enthusiastically, then starts yanking the covers around them, and bundling Kent in like he’s afraid he might get cold in the night.

Kent, trying not to think too much about it, reaches out and hits the lamp, then snuggles in a little closer.

“Best mistranslation ever,” he breathes, not sure if the words are for Alexei or himself. It doesn't matter. Soon he's asleep and he doesn't have to think any more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What goes on the morning after for the world's favorite Russian Tiny Potato and Human Pineapple TrashPanda? AKA, Tater and Kent?
> 
> Ondine and I have brought you the answer. Thanks for reading!

It’s too warm when he wakes, almost suffocatingly warm. Alexei feels trapped and suffocated, but that's easily solved. A couple of kicks and a twist of his hips, and he is free of his cocoon of blankets. Much better, he thinks, as he gathers Kent close. Cuddling is, after all, the best way to keep warm.

Tater is an inveterate cuddler. Men, women, one night stand or regular partner, Tater always prefers to end the evening with a snuggle. There's something different about this, though. Tater can't quite put a finger on what it is or why Kent feels so much like a lover, and so little like the booty call he had apparently thought he was. Alexei groans, pulling Kent closer, and pressing soft kisses to his messy blond locks that are sticking out in every direction. He is more, Alexei decides, fully aware of just how much he needs to make that clear to Kent. To Kent who poses like he needs to. Who wears tiny underwear and bites his lip and tries so very hard to please as though he needs to. As though no one would stay if he didn't. 

\----------

Alexei wakes him up with kisses. Soft, butterfly light kisses across his forehead, his cheeks, his hair, that turn harder, messier with each moment. And Kent blossoms under the attention. He leans into the kisses, slow and unsteady as he chases the first strains of wakefulness, and then hungrily. He bites and and licks and chases each inch of skin, straining toward Alexei’s lips even as he pulls back. 

“I can touch you?” 

“Yes, yes obviously. I am in bed with you, Alexei.”

“Ah, but that is not consent, yes? I am hearing this from Zimmboni’s friend. Affirmative consent, yes?” 

Kent giggles, blushing at the sound. “Yes. Of course.” 

Kent leans up, pressing himself close, and frowns, pulling back with a sucking sound. 

“On second thought, how about a shower first? We are seriously sticky.” 

Alexei shrugs, hopping to his feet and reaching out for Kent. Kent blinks up at him, confusion gracing his features, and then finally a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth, he takes the proffered hand and let's Alexei pull him up and in for a kiss, neatly lifting him off his feet. 

The laugh this surprises out of Kent makes Alexei whoop, and bound into the bathroom. They must make a ridiculous site, Kent muses, as Alexei switches on the water and steps in backwards to protect Kent from the worst of the icy spray. Then Tater shakes his head, flinging his hair off of his face and pelting Kent with chilly droplets and Kent can't find it in himself to care. 

When the water has warmed up, Alexei lowers him gently to the floor and maneuvers him into the water, soaping up his hands, and then gently begins to wash, not himself, no, but Kent. His hands are light on his skin, and Kent watches as these huge mits, paws even, that masquerade as normal human hands, brush down his front, leaving bubbles in their wake. He shivers. 

Alexei is so sweet with him. So soft. It's utterly stunning that this mountain of a man is standing there with him, treating him like spun glass. 

If you had asked him before whether or not he would enjoy this kind of treatment, Kent would have scoffed. He had never gone in for soft. Furthermore, no one has ever offered it to him. Every fuck was a battle. Every kiss a brutal war. Every touch a fight, leaving bruises in its wake. And it's not that there has never been tenderness. With Zimms there was tenderness. With Zimms there had been affection too. But it was desperate, and it hurt. If there is any pain here it is only a tender ache of kindness. 

It makes him want to cry with its solicitude. But Alexei’s hands are on him and that makes him want a whole different set of things. So he settles for something in between. He pulls Alexei into the water with him and kisses him like he's dying, like he's drowning. And he rubs his soap-slick cock against Alexei’s hard, hairy thigh, and he revels in the pressure and the rough scrape of hairs against his sensitive cockhead. And if a few tears fall, well the shower washes them away as though they never were. He feels like he’s on fire when Alexei wraps his huge hand around both their cocks and strokes slow and tight. His skin is tingling, and he feels lightheaded. Lightheaded because he's gasping and sobbing, and it's pleasure and sadness, with infinite sweetness being slowly and inexorably drawn out of him. 

For a delicious, terrifying moment, he can't catch his breath. He feels too big for his skin. It stretches and it itches and it sizzles under Alexei’s touch. Then, he’s coming and coming and crying out wetly against Alexei’s chest, and he’s being cradled close. It's that’s more than good because he isn't sure if he still has knees. He concentrates on breathing as Alexei rinses him off carefully and scoops him up like a child. But not like a child, no, like a lover, which makes his heart just ache and glow. He curls up against him, nuzzling closer as Alexei settles them in a chair, because Alexei’s grip is like iron when Kent reluctantly tries to climb off of his lap. Kent takes that to mean that his weight is no imposition, and he’s glad. So glad. And that's all there is as he begins to breathe normally again, to feel his heart calm, and stop trying to flutter right out of his chest. 

Alexei hums, and Kent smiles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue of our story! Thanks for reading and keep shipping that Sweet Patater!

Eventually they do make it to breakfast. First, they have to tackle the problem of what Kent is going to do about clothing. He's got a robe and some scraps of cloth, but no actual clothing, and Alexei is a damned giant in comparison. But Alexei is a gentleman and he offers to go get clothing because this, he thinks, is what a boyfriend would do. And Kent just sort of shrugs at him and slips on a pair of Alexei’s running tights and a sweatshirt he's practically drowning in and cocks an eyebrow at him. Alexei swallows, adjusts his belt and follows that gorgeous ass down to breakfast like a puppy. 

They don't really make too much of a stir when they enter the dining room. Half the players are nursing hangovers and the other half are so engrossed by their breakfast they can't see anything further than their plates. 

When they take their plates to a table and Kent stands over him for a minute, considering, then flops gracelessly into Tater’s lap, and starts feeding him grapes. 

The room goes silent. 

Kent takes a vicious bite out of a sausage, and turns to Tater to offer him the rest. 

“Alexei? Why are they staring at me? Do I have something on my face? He bats his eyelashes coquettishly.

“No, моя Дракон, they are looking at you because you have such nice face. They are all wanting to be me.”

“Hmm, true. That must be it.”

With that, they settle in for breakfast. 

If the smile Kent gives Jack is the first real smile he’s given him since they were 18, well they don’t talk about it. 

If Tater and Snowy are having aggressive eyebrow wiggling competitions over their pancakes, well that they clearly do not have to discuss. 

And if Alexei traps one of Kent’s hands firmly in his lap and stroke, stroke, strokes his thumb across the back of it, that they don’t need to talk about. 

There’s time for all of it. They have their entire futures ahead of them. And they’re looking very bright indeed.


End file.
